jealousy
by Promestein
Summary: Misaki wasn't used to being unable to get what she wanted.


Misaki wasn't used to being unable to get what she wanted.

Sometimes getting what she wanted could be tricky, but it was rarely impossible. She always found a way, and her 'subjects' were always eager to help her.

So, being faced with a want - it felt more like a need - she couldn't fulfill was not something she was ready to deal with. Then again, she never would have been ready for this, whether it was possible or not, no matter how much she prepared and recited. Really, the impossibility of this desire only made her want it more. All she really wanted to do was spend some time with Mikoto. Well, maybe a little more than that. Maybe she wanted to hold her hand, or kiss her cheek, or hug her. It didn't really matter what she wanted if it was impossible, though, so what was the point in trying?

For the longest time, she had dared to hope that maybe Mikoto felt the same way. But she had no way of knowing - just her luck, falling for one of the very few people she couldn't read. Of course, that way, the paranoia ends up just as strong as the hope, and Misaki spends half her nights hoping Mikoto likes her and the half hoping that she at least doesn't loathe her (but she's pretty sure she does; not like Misaki's ever given her reason not to hate her). She grits her teeth without shifting her carefully maintained expression and keeps her eyes trained on Mikoto from across the library, in between the crowd that had amassed around her.

They were easy to read. It wasn't even really something intentional, at this point - their thoughts drifted by and Misaki just absent-mindedly taps on her remote, only barely paying attention. She could identify every fleeting impulse and every enduring thought. Some of them had crushes on her; some boys, some girls. It didn't even really matter, even if Misaki had taken some egotistical pleasure in it before these annoying feelings had cropped up. She keeps on staring at Mikoto and drums her fingers against the table.

She had always checked the thoughts of Mikoto's friends for anything relating to her, any memory of Mikoto talking about her. Every memory she found was a complaint; Mikoto whining about her lording her control over the other students, Mikoto complaining about how she acted, or whatever else. Sometimes Mikoto just complained. Sometimes, she had even tried to act through some of her friends; trying to subtly push Mikoto towards her, or trying to gently probe into Mikoto's thoughts and feelings on her. She never had any success; once or twice, Mikoto even figured out she was doing something, and though the chance to talk to her was enjoyable on some level, Misaki wasn't a fan of the circumstances.

Then, she made the mistake of trying to go through Kuroko.

The feelings she had shoved in her face when she went into her mind were nauseatingly similar to her own; and if that wasn't bad enough, there were memories of things Misaki could only ever dream of doing; holding hands with Mikoto, watching the stars, so many sickeningly and stereotypically romantic things that Misaki couldn't handle. She had left her mind as soon as she entered and "found an excuse" to get back home early, and then she had curled up in her bed and stared at the ceiling for what felt like several hours. Misaki didn't cry - because god why would she cry about some five-watt electromaster and her stupid feelings and her stupid relationship?

But she did drag her nails across her arms and grind her teeth and fantasize about tearing back into Kuroko's mind and taking all those memories for herself, or ripping up all those feelings, or something, anything that made her feel less alone and less unwanted. Of course, it doesn't matter. Misaki doesn't really have the heart to ruin whatever Mikoto has, even if it's for her own sake. If she's happy, she's happy. Even if the thought of her being happy with anyone but her makes Misaki want to curl up someplace dark and slam her head against the wall.

Kuroko suddenly appears in the library and joins Mikoto at her table. Misaki snaps the pencil in her hand and takes in a sharp breath.

Still...

Misaki was not good at not being able to have what she wanted.


End file.
